sometimes in this fucking writing life – I spit, by pd lyons


this machine does not hold my heart

nothing does

i have hawked and spit the fucking thing into a paper receptacle

no one ever drank from

you can not touch me

even with skin

you cannot know me

even with latex

i don’t even know my self

except for low simmer anger clenched

hyper vigilant for targeting

Advertisements
Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

Comments

  • Donna J Snyder  On June 23, 2015 at 11:47 am

    This is the firzt time I’ve read one of your poems and found anger. Impressively original.

    Liked by 1 person

    • pdlyons  On June 23, 2015 at 5:37 pm

      to be honest there are days when i think everything i have ever done completely sucks and should be thrown way. and then there are other days…

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: